What I Used to Write…


By avoiding the leftover scars, I often wrote with the hawks

a heart filled with the mountains, eagle’s wings

and Native Americans running strong.

But Thunder Speaking doesn’t

live here now.


Songs of My Love will always lift me

and the oceans call, with a few older people

looking beyond the horizon.


But to be honest I wonder how many more poems

and how many more battles I can still face

without the mountains in my heart

and eagle’s wings unfolding.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Little Golden Flower


All around her was dying, and her great love, the hydrangea,

had long since gone, but she was determined to not let go of the sun

and the story is told, a legend really, among the flowers

of autumn, how she held on past the first snow

finally drifting off to sleep until

the next spring.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

Peace in a Leaf


The peace of a leaf changing, is not only in the gentle breeze moving

it is more of our mother declaring her beauty, as the sun

moves further away. The great dance of nature

showing us clearly, there is love for each

of us to comprehend, to breathe in,

and become a part of.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Survivor


She really did feel like the ocean now, expanding, having been washed

on the inside of her body, and free, minus some foam here and there, with

fear lingering, and her hair gone. Her spirit was stronger now than ever,

and her faith lifted her, so she often sang

the Psalms as intended.


And he was always there with her, by her side determined to fight

chasing away the grimace of death, they often talked

as two spirits becoming one, healing each other.

and walking now along the beach,

grateful for the waves.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Wisdom of Beauty


The wisest of sages never lived in caves, instead they were captured by the fire of autumn,

living in the purple and magenta, the gold and red, inspired and writing books on

the wisdom of beauty. Which is always much better – than the gloom of caves.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Bumble Bee


As he tasted the nectar from the periwinkle, he hoped

and prayed, this would not be the last autumn

for humanity. At each flower he jumped to

he said another prayer.


And he knew, that if the humans ever did leave the planet

at least the flowers would remain.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

Walking into the Sacred


As he walked into the sacred, he noticed how regal she was, it was as if

she had been living there a long time, but he was stunned that she loved his color,

and more, that she loved his essence. Her royalty flowed, especially

when the light filtered through and gently rested

on her spirit. There was a softness

he had never known before.

They were both



Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies